


atla but zuko loses his marbles at the end of book 2

by hoHbOi



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amnesia, Angst, Attempted Sexual Assault, Ba Sing Se, Brainwashing, Episode: s02e20 The Crossroads of Destiny, Gen, Healing, Heavy Angst, Hurt Zuko (Avatar), Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Torture, Memory Loss, Mental Health Issues, Non-Graphic Violence, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Temporary Amnesia, Zuko Joins The Gaang Early (Avatar), dadkoda
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:47:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25011121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoHbOi/pseuds/hoHbOi
Summary: Zuko fucks up and gets captured by the Dai Li. Iroh gets sent back to the fire nation for trial. Under instruction from Azula, Long Feng tortures and brainwashes Zuko for two weeks of hell beneath Ba Sing Se. Title basically says it all. Answers the question: What if the Zuko that was thrown into the cave with Katara had been considerably more traumatized and 100% more brainwashed? Lots of angst and please check the tags for tw.
Relationships: Hakoda & Katara (Avatar), Hakoda & Zuko (Avatar), Katara & Zuko (Avatar), Sokka & Zuko (Avatar), Toph Beifong & Zuko, Zuko & Therapy
Comments: 220
Kudos: 876





	1. chapter fucking one

i.

“Why did they throw you in here? Oh wait, let me guess –it’s a trap. When Aang comes to rescue me, you’ll be right here to –why are you laughing like that? Have you finally lost it?” Katara glared down at Zuko. He couldn’t help his laughter, another side effect of the brainwashing. He perpetually had a deranged grin, always on the edge of hysterical laughter. She was accusing him of scheming to capture the Avatar, like he cared about that anymore. 

He couldn’t care about anything. Not after what they’d done to him. For weeks, all he’d wanted was for the pain to stop, for him to die, and hopefully take a few choice people with him. Like Long Feng. And Azula. He couldn’t give a shit about the Avatar when he was being tortured underneath Lake Laogai. 

Azula’s orders had been simple, “Break him.” And Long Feng had done so. 

“I suppose it would make sense if you’ve really gone crazy. It runs in your blood, right? You’re the Firelord’s son, you come from a long line of homicidal maniacs!” Zuko kept laughing until the sound pained his own ears. Were her words meant to hurt him? Zuko felt nothing. Her words had no effect. 

He ought to clue her in. “Oh, you mean this?” He twisted a finger into the corner of his mouth, indicating the manic smile. “You haven’t heard? Long Feng broke me.” 

Katara faltered for the first time. Anger fell away to understanding on her face. “Oh. You were brainwashed. I’m sorry.” 

ii.

“Join me, brother. It’s not too late for you to come back. Father is ready to forgive you. I’ve calculated every step of today, and I can only succeed with you by my side. Fight with me and you’ll regain your honor. We can go home, together.” Azula smiled that sickly sweet smile that made his skin crawl. She emphasized all the words that used to mean so much to him. It was funny to him, how she thought he would still jump at the word ‘honor.’ 

The glint in her eye said that she had planned this day out to a tee and was certain nothing could go wrong. Azula thought that she’d broken Zuko, that she’d taken everything he had when she sent Uncle back to the capital in chains and had Zuko tortured for weeks beneath the city. And she had broken him. But now she thought that meant he wouldn’t be able to resist the offer she was giving him. She’d miscalculated. 

The old Zuko would have done whatever she asked to go home. To the new Zuko, the broken wreck of a boy grinning in the light of the crystals, her words meant nothing. She said ‘home,’ and ‘father,’ and he didn’t care. He didn’t even remember what it was to care. Honor meant nothing to him. What they had done to him –he was empty inside. 

A laugh bubbled up inside him, thinking of how badly Azula had miscalculated. Finally, she had slipped up. Too bad he was too broken to take any pleasure in it. Too broken to feel anything at all, except maybe rage. It was freeing, to think of his father without hurting, to think of his home without wanting. Azula had no idea the consequences of what she had done. By giving him to the Dai Li, she’d upped his emotional pain threshold. He’d suffered so greatly in the past weeks, feared so deeply, that he couldn’t muster up any more pain for her, nor more fear for his father. 

“Aww, ‘Zula,” he threw the words back at her, faux cheer bouncing off of crystal walls. “What a touching offer. I never knew you cared so much!” Zuko was smiling. He’d never stopped smiling, not since the Dai Li had ripped open every crevice of his mind, and left him with this mad, empty, terrifying grin. But his eyes were hard as nails as he stared down the girl responsible for the destruction of his mind. He could see her faltering, the shock as she realized that something was wrong with him, the flash of panic and widening of eyes that he could always recognize when she was confronted with something not part of her plan. And he let out another insane laugh, echoing in the emptiness. “But I’ve got an even better idea! How about you go fuck yourself!” 

Azula never let her face slip for long, but Zuko saw through it for a second. No, she hadn’t prepared for this. But then her guard was back up and she was looking at him with vague disappointment. “Oh, Zuzu, you’ve really cracked, haven’t you?” She hummed in an unconcerned way, like she couldn’t care less if her brother lost his mind. Like she wasn’t the one that had ordered him broken. “It’s too bad, I wasn’t even lying this time. You could’ve come home. Hmm, oh well. You’ve made your choice. Now you’ll be going home in chains, just like Uncle.” She took a bending stance. 

Zuko exhaled flames in his rage, but the smile never left his face. It wasn’t even the thought of Uncle that angered him. He was empty inside, couldn’t even care about that. But he wanted to. And it was Azula’s fault he couldn’t. Everything that had happened in the past two weeks was her fault. Her fault that he was beaten bloody while forced to spar with Dai Li agents 12 to 1. Her fault that he’d had his mind rewritten over and over again. Her fault when they came into his cell at night and the stone bound his hands to the wall and they– He exhaled more fire. 

“I’m going to fucking kill you.” Zuko spat the words at her through his grin and shot the first punch of fire. 

iii. 

Zuko probably wasn’t going to kill Azula. Not for lack of effort or intent. He’d tried his damn hardest and, for a minute, it had looked like he might succeed. The battle had been in their favor, three on one. The three being Zuko, Katara, and the Avatar, against Azula. Azula was good, really good, but even she couldn’t win against three master benders. 

But then the Dai Li showed up. Azula had thirty-some agents at her back and Zuko’s odds weren’t looking nearly as good. Not that he cared. His manic energy had surged with the adrenaline of the battle. With every flame he shot he could hear his laugh and he didn’t even feel it when rocks ripped through the sleeves of his shirt. 

When he went one on one against Azula, he had even landed a solid hit. He was fighting completely differently than he ever had with her before. After near constant threat of fire from his father growing up, Zuko had learned to hold back his fire in a fight. He didn’t want to be the type of bender that left scars in his wake. Now he didn’t care. Azula had never fought this Zuko, the Zuko that didn’t hold back at all. Of course, she was still better than him. 

iv.

Zuko watched the lightning reflect off hundreds of crystals as the Avatar went dark and fell from the sky. He knew the battle was lost, and he didn’t really care. He wasn’t far from where Katara caught Aang, and the boy looked pretty dead to Zuko. Oh well, it was a nice shot at revenge, and Zuko had wanted to die anyway. Might as well give getting shot full of lighting a try. Who knows, he might even enjoy it. 

He turned towards where Azula was still pointing smoking fingers in the air. “Azula!” He grinned even wider when he caught her attention. “Excellent form! Can you do me next?” He gestured from her fingers to his chest. Even from here he could see her roll her eyes. He’d missed annoying her like this. Almost reminded him of when they were kids. 

“Oh no, Zuzu, don’t tell me you’re suicidal now too? It takes all the fun out of killing you when I know you want it.” She sighed dramatically, like she was taking personal offense to this. “Though you’re right, it’s still better if I’m the one to do it. If word got out that you offed yourself, it would be terribly embarrassing for the family.” 

“Azula,” he began in a singsong voice, “you’re stalling!” 

He’d barely finished speaking before static crackled around her and lightning jumped out of her fingertips again, this time pointed right at Zuko. He felt himself laughing uncontrollably as it arced towards him. Time slowed as he shook with laughter. He saw every detail of the scene with disinterested clarity. He saw the Avatar lifeless in Katara’s lap only a few meters away. Water swirled around them, moving them up the waterfall. Katara was using Zuko as a distraction to escape. How clever. 

Zuko’s mind, his useless broken remnant of a mind, was focused on the way the lightning made the crystals glow brighter and the sound of rushing water. It didn’t even notice what its body had done until after the fact. It didn’t notice Zuko’s body catching the lightning, redirecting it with the form Uncle had drilled into his worthless mind so hard that the body knew it too. His mind was still marveling at sparks when the lightning hit his sister. 

By the time Zuko’s mind caught up to the moment he had held lightning, his body was already dodging rocks throw by Dai Li and running towards the waterfall. His mind finally remembered Azula’s face as lightning shot back towards her while his body was already reaching for Katara’s outstretched hand. Zuko only realized that holding lightning had left him covered in burns when he had to climb on top the Sky Bison. He didn’t process the sound of his sister’s skull hitting the cave floor until the miserable city of Ba Sing Se was fading behind them. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I meant this as a oneshot but I'm very tempted to write more of this so lmk in the comments if that would be appreciated.


	2. chapter fucking two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this got 900 hits? so I wrote a second chapter? don't really like how it turned out but figured i would post anyway uhh pls be nice.

v.

The Avatar wasn’t dead. Not anymore, at least. To the confusion of everyone else, Zuko laughed when the boy woke up. From the dead, that is. Woke up from the dead! This wasn’t funny to anyone else? News Flash: death doesn’t have to be permanent! Oh, this opens up so many options... 

He couldn’t help but giggle at it. A trial run of death, a free sample. Did Katara have any more of that magic water? Maybe Zuko could give it a try, just test death out for a bit. Now that would be interesting, maybe he would see Azula! 

Zuko sat at the back of the bison. Everyone was very quiet, very somber now that the battle was over. Not paying much attention towards him. There were three people crowded around Aang. Katara and her brother. What was his name? Actually, no, Zuko really didn’t care. And the little earth bending girl was holding onto him; Zuko didn’t know her name either. Closer to Zuko there was a man who wore glasses and expensive clothes. He looked like the only real adult in the group, and he was also the only one to break the silence. “The Earth Kingdom has fallen.” He was staring back towards Ba Sing Se. Oh, so that’s the Earth King. 

And that’s his fucking bear. 

Zuko hoped they didn’t decide to throw him off the side, this seemed like interesting company. Like the set up to a bad joke. The Avatar, two Water Tribe teenagers, a blind earthbender, an insane Fire Prince, the Earth King, and a bear, leave Ba Sing Se on the back of a flying bison... He couldn’t figure out the punchline yet but was already laughing. 

Laughing hurt. He could tell he’d drawn some attention now; the water tribe boy was glaring at him. He asked questions like why was Zuko here, and what was wrong with him. Zuko let Katara answer them for him as all his injuries caught up to him. 

Before the battle his body had already been weak from the prolonged torture beneath Lake Laogai. More than once in the past weeks, he’d been forced to fight against a dozen Dai Li at once and left each time with a collection of bruises and scrapes. His body was now just layers of new bruises on old, half healed scrapes clashing with fresh blood. On top of it all, he had a path of crackling, lightning patterned burns up his arms and across his chest and stomach from when he’d held lightning. That would make a very interesting scar for his collection! 

Every part of him ached and stung. Particularly the lightning burns were feeling more like agony as Zuko’s mind caught up to his body. He wanted nothing more than to just rest, but it seemed he would not be allowed to sleep just yet. The siblings’ conversation about him was getting more and more heated. It seemed that Katara was defending Zuko, explaining how he’d helped in the cave. The boy still was fearful of Zuko, and, yeah, that’s right, Zuko had chased him for months. What an odd thing to be hung up on. Maybe Zuko should apologize? He really didn’t care actually. He should tell them that. 

“Don’t worry about me, I’m done with all that Avatar chasing nonsense. You see, I’m all fucked up in the head now, so I really can’t give a damn about, well, anything.” The three were all looking at Zuko now. Well, two of them were, the blind girl had the vague direction right. He just grinned back. 

The blind girl reached her hand towards him. “Give me your hand.” Her hand floated in the air between them, dirty and calloused but still small and pale like a child’s. Not that any of them could be children after what they’d been through. Zuko knew not to underestimate little girls. Agni, he’d grown up with Azula, he’d learned that lesson several times over. But still, he fit his hand in hers. 

Zuko didn’t like being touched; it made his skin crawl uncomfortably and faintly brought unpleasant memories into his foggy mind. And an echo of something else, where memories should have been but weren’t. Memories that had been stolen, or hidden, in his time under the lake. 

The girl’s grip turned firm and she clamped down on his wrist, fingers firm against his pulse point. Zuko flinched hard, with his whole body. Muscles stiffened and his skin pulled taught on the cuts and burns. And then he laughed, because that’s all he really does anymore. 

“I’ll be able to know if your lying. Now you’re going to answer our questions.” The girl’s voice was sure, but Zuko could see through it. Everyone had been pushed to their limits, and he made them all nervous. 

vi.

Zuko answered the questions. All of them, it’s not his fault if they didn’t like the answers. And they really didn’t, even if he hadn’t lied. Because most of the time the answer was that he didn’t remember. 

The more he spoke, the more he laughed. It wasn’t funny. The more he laughed and cursed them out the more they looked at him with less fear and more pity. And the more he knew he was pitied, the more he laughed. 

It was a positive feedback loop, he realized. Zuko laughed more at that. 

“He’s not a threat.” 

“Should we keep him prisoner? Dad would know what to do with him.” 

They were talking about him like he wasn’t there. 

“I don’t think he’s worth it. We have enough problems as it is, let’s just leave him in the next town we pass over.” 

“Sokka, we can’t just abandon him! He saved my life back there. And look at him, he would never make it on his own.” 

Zuko would have taken offense at that, if it weren’t for the fact that every part of his body both ached and burned, and that he was on the verge of passing out, and he was still laughing at nothing. But why did she care if he died? He certainly would be okay with it. 

“He chased us across the world, don’t think that we owe him anything Katara.” 

If they kept talking after that, he wouldn’t know. Zuko had finally lost consciousness. 

vii. 

He woke the first time when the bison landed on a beach. Immediately they were swarmed with water tribe warriors. Zuko couldn’t move. 

Well, he could move, just any movement was unbearably painful. That’s the thing about pain, he’s learned. You can bear it right up until you can’t. And he had finally, after weeks of torture, only just now, hit that point. He cackled at the absurdity of his situation, and then passed out from the pain. 

viii. 

He woke the second time staring at the blue fabric ceiling of a tent. The pain was back to bearable and his head felt clearer. Not clear, not without the fog and the mania, but clearer than he had been since he’d lost his mind in the first place. 

The waterbender was there. Katara. She pulled water away from where she had held it to his skull. 

Her brother was there too. Sokka, he remembered her calling him. Zuko tried to sit up, Katara told him to stay down, he didn’t listen. She had done something to his wounds, they looked weeks older than they should. Much more bearable. 

“How do you feel?” She asked. She shouldn’t care. 

“Why am I still alive?” He countered with a grin. 

“That’s what I’ve been wondering.” Sokka said under his breath to his sister’s disapproval. 

“We want to make a deal with you.” Katara said. 

Zuko laughed, loud and rude and absolutely insane. She winced at the sound. “What could we possibly give each other? I don’t want anything anymore.” He paused, grinning, thinking. “Except death.” 

“What about your mind back? I’m a healer. I could undo what the Dai Li did to you. I’ve already started.” She stared at him something fierce and for the first time in a while Zuko felt something break through the haze in his mind. He thought about the chance to think clearly again, to be himself or a least be someone. He’d written recovery off as impossible, but he thought of how she’d said she already started and how his mind felt clearer when he first woke up and maybe, maybe it was possible. And maybe he did want it. 

“What do you want from me?” He didn’t think he had anything left to give, but she must want something. And whatever it was, Agni, she could have it. He’d pay whatever it would cost to feel something again. 

“You’re a firebending master. And, Aang–” Her voice broke for a second. “Aang will need a teacher when he wakes up.” 

Zuko was laughing. When had he started? It didn’t matter. Who cared? “You want me to teach the Avatar firebending so he can defeat my father?” 

“Yes.” Sokka spoke up. So, they both agreed on the plan. Why not? Really, Zuko could teach the Avatar. And he didn’t think he would actually mind if the kid killed his father. This was his only chance at getting his mind back. 

“Okay. Deal.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey pals, drop a comment if you'd like another trash chapter of this. the comments were literally the only reason i continued this at all, so keep that in mind. ALSO i made a tumblr! it's hohboi06 and i post random things that i write and i have no followers rn so go hit me up


	3. i wrote another chapter god damn it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> they're on a boat now. zuko gets 1 (one) singular memory back. some non-graphic violence woot woot

ix.

Zuko wasn’t a prisoner. That’s what they told him, isn’t that funny? Everywhere he went on the captured Fire Nation ship, a bored looking water tribe warrior followed. Some poor dope had drawn the short straw at the water tribe council or whatever the savages did without royalty and got stuck on babysitting duty. 

But he wasn’t a prisoner! They just had to keep an eye on him, like he hadn’t already promised to help their oh-so-noble war effort. There’s no such thing as a justified war, he decided. No such thing as a justified anything. Any human action is corrupt by nature; all humans are fucking bastards. People should stop caring so much about whether what they're doing is right or wrong. People should stop caring at all. 

Wait, no. That’s why he was on this damn ship. He didn’t care about anything, couldn’t care, but wanted to. 

But why? The people that could care seemed to waste so much time caring about the wrong things. Like whether Zuko would suddenly revert to his evil princely ways now that he was dressed in a Fire Nation soldier’s uniform instead of prison rags. Zuko, of course, thought it was hilarious. 

Time passed slowly on the ship. Too many silly rules, too much time with nothing to do, too much familiarity to bring back less than pleasant memories. 

Memories of his old ship and his old crew. He couldn’t remember his first weeks on the Wani, but he didn’t know if the memories were lost to brainwashing or the infection his body had been fighting off for weeks after he was burned. Neither could he remember what had ever happened to the ship, but he had the feeling it was destroyed. Oh well, he wouldn’t mourn it. But it was too bad he didn’t have the memory of the rust bucket finally eating it, or he would have cherished it. Maybe he could recreate it with this new ship! 

Maybe it actually was a good idea for him to have a babysitter, he thought as he contemplated how long it would take him to make the boiler blow. He couldn’t come up with a way to blow up the ship and make it out alive, but he didn’t really want to anyway. 

Oh, and that was a funny thought. The guard was there to protect Zuko! He was on suicide watch. That’s why they didn’t let him near the edge of the ship, or any sharp objects. How hadn’t he realized this sooner? 

Not that he was actually going to kill himself. Or blow up the ship. He’d made a deal, and death was a lousy way to back out of it. He was just thinking about, and it’s not like he had anything else to do. 

He wasn’t allowed to practice firebending, or train with swords, and there wasn’t even anything to read on the whole Agni damn ship. Really, they should at least let him bend because a firebender practicing on deck would only help their disguise. Duh. Instead, he ran katas cold until he was bored, which didn’t take long with his ruined attention span. But the exercise helped to let off some steam. Let off steam, firebender, get it? Zuko thought it was very funny. 

He tried meditating. He thought it might help clear his head, help him control his emotions like it always had before. It didn’t. He couldn’t even do it properly. His thoughts were constantly firing at 100%, he couldn’t clear his mind for one second. Focusing like that was out of the question. And sitting still for more than a few minutes at a time was just impossible. 

x.

They’d been on the ship three nights before Katara approached him again. It was time for their first healing session. 

Zuko didn’t know what to expect. He wanted his mind back, but he also knew it wasn’t that simple. What had been done to him, how his mind had been ripped apart and clumsily rewritten, wouldn’t go away overnight. Feeling detached as always, he realized that he couldn’t remember what his mother’s face looked like. Would he ever get that back? Or would he only learn how to mourn the loss? So many memories had fallen through the cracks leaving gaps in his past, blank spots as far back as his childhood, that some of them would surely never be recovered. 

Katara warned him of as much. She also warned him that as memories were brought back from the hidden parts of his mind, she would see them too. That this had happened the last time she tried it. 

“Oh really? Was it a good show?” He asked with as much intensity as he could through his ever-present smile. He didn’t want anyone else in his mind. He knew the feeling of having his every thought laid bare and would die before he let it happen again. 

“Nothing I wasn’t there for. I saw you fight Azula in the ghost town, where Iroh was injured. Do you remember that?” 

“Nope.” He cheerily popped the p. Although the scene did sound a little familiar, any details were lost to the void. The idea that Katara had one of his memories that he didn’t did not sit well with him. But it was necessary to regain his mind, he thought ruefully. 

“That’s probably because you weren’t conscious. I think, now that you’re awake, we’ll see them together.” 

“Oh joy! We get to watch my trauma together and bond! Did you bring the fire flakes?” 

Zuko found himself on the end of a withering look from those cold blue eyes. “I’m taking this seriously, you should too. Look, I can’t control what I see when I’m healing, but I will promise that I won’t tell anyone else.” 

“Healer-patient confidentiality? How generous of you!” 

She started to swirl water around her hands as she positioned herself at Zuko’s back. “You’re welcome.” The room faded away as cool water sank into his skull. 

xi.

He was back there. Back between stone walls growing tighter and tighter and was it his imagination or were they earth bending the room smaller? Back to no light, no sun and no way to tell the time other than the arrival of meals. Meals that seemed to become smaller too, and more far apart. 

This is a memory, he reminded himself. But he didn’t remember this. And the damp air felt so real, and the scabs on his wrists from struggling in his cuffs were back. 

You’re not there, he tried to pull himself back to salty sea air and scars fading not fresh sores. But the cell felt so real; the hunger gnawing in his gut so distracting. 

This is a memory, one of the ones he lost. But was it? 

It was. It must be, because there was someone else there. He couldn’t see her, but he could feel the presence. She felt like the ocean, like white-crested waves, like the gentle but unshakeable hold of the tide. 

What was she doing here? Watching. Healing. 

He was saner here, in the past. This must have been from before they really broke his mind. 

They watched when the stone wall slid open. A Dai Li agent entered, carrying a sad bowl of rice. Zuko felt the healer working at the edge of his mind. But they were both still watching. 

Zuko, past Zuko that is, was saying something to the agent. They couldn’t hear what, but he was shouting. The healer did something more and the memory sharpened. The last word shouted was heard or remembered or whatever you would call what happened inside his mind. 

“–BASTARD!” 

Past Zuko spit in the man’s face. Present Zuko still didn’t remember this happening but took pleasure in watching the Dai Li wipe saliva off his face. That is, until he had to watch himself take a fist to the jaw. And the gut. And more than a few kicks to the ribs. 

As it went on, present Zuko allowed his consciousness to withdraw into the familiar feeling of the ocean. It wasn’t possible for him to look away from his own memory, but if he had to live through this place again, maybe he didn’t have to do it alone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys were so fucking nice to me in the comments of last chapter that I was actually motivated to update within the month. I'm surprised that people are liking this, in my mind it's just my poorly written self indulgent trash fic, but I guess if that's what y'all want to read I'll write more? 
> 
> On a different note, I feel that I should make it clear now that there will be no romantic pairings in this fic, but like interpret character's interactions however you want.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More memories, and Zuko deals with Katara Defense Squad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey sorry for the wait but school started and i dont owe you shit :)  
> also life update for me guys!! i got a mullet and i think you need to know that
> 
> any way nothing much happens here except remembering. i dont actually really like writing about torture so i skirt around some Very Extremely Bad memories that Katara brings back, and until i grow the balls to write something violent enough to make me change the tags, you'll have to fill in the blanks with your torture method of choice. 
> 
> in conclusion, i wrote this chapter while stoned

xii. 

Katara had seen a lot of horrible things since she left home. She’d seen a prison ship full of earth benders stolen from their families, villages burnt to the ground, children without homes or parents. She’d seen pain and hunger and incredible violence and experienced it too. Ever since her mother died, she’d had to be older than her years. She’d had to cope with the atrocities of war that she knew way too intimately than anyone fourteen-year-old should. 

But this, this might have been the worst, most violent and gruesome crime she’d had to witness yet. And it was one of Zuko’s memories. It was the second week of healing, and the memories were only getting worse. 

The only moment that could compare to what she’d just watched, that was perhaps more painful, was watching Aang die. 

She wanted her dad. 

It had been years since she’d seen him, years in which she had grown to resent him for leaving. But she couldn’t think of that now. She just remembered the way he used hold her after mom died, how he could convince her that everything would be alright. 

Her dad took one look at her and asked what had happened, who’d done this to her. She stuttered out Zuko’s name and he was ready to fight the prince in a second. 

“No, Dad, he didn’t hurt me.” 

“What happened? Were you healing him just now?” 

“Y-yes. He– I see his memories when I heal his mind.” 

“What did you see?” 

She shook her head. “I can’t tell you. It’s not mine to share. But Dad–” She took a shaky breath. “Dad, it was horrible.” 

“It’s okay sweetie, come here.” He pulled her into a hug and felt safe and small in his arms, like he had never left. She could imagine for just a moment that they were back at the South Pole and she had never watched her best friend die, she had never watched someone who she thought was her enemy tortured to insanity. 

xiii. 

“What did you do to my sister?!” 

Something stepped in front of where Zuko was laying on the deck and blocked the sunlight. He spent a lot of time just lying on the deck, napping, soaking up the sun, purposely getting in the way of everyone else. It was relaxing, especially after a painful healing session. Like the one he’d had today. The person interrupting him sounded like Sokka, or in other words, not worth Zuko’s attention. He didn’t bother opening his eyes. 

A boot lightly prodded his side. “Asshole. What did you do to Katara?” 

Zuko just hummed in response. Had he done something? Maybe. He couldn’t really remember. 

The boot prodded him again. Hard. “Ever since you two started your little ‘healing sessions’ she’s been off. Crying a lot. More than normal, which is already a lot!” Did Sokka ever stop talking? “Anyway- What did you do to my sister?!” Zuko cracked an eyelid to glare up at the perpetrator. He did not want to deal with this right now. 

The sun was blinding right behind Sokka’s shoulder, so it was useless for Zuko to try to look at him. He closed his eyes again. “Why don’t you ask the little tear-bender yourself?” He sneered. “Her memory is much more reliable than mine.” The memories he’d seen today– 

Think about something else. 

Katara had been crying a lot. Zuko had assumed that was how she was. He laughed, she cried. But, with every session of healing, Zuko could control his laugh more, and she controlled her tears less. So it was his fault. He wanted to laugh at that, but he didn’t. See? Better already! 

“She’s won’t tell me! Probably because you did something completely horrible to her! So tell me, you dick!” Sokka kicked him again, for emphasis or fun or whatever always seemed to compel people to kick Zuko. It’s okay; he was used to it. He didn’t flinch. But, he did laugh. 

His ribs were sore (had they ever stopped being so?) and he curved an arm around them as he sat up to look right at Sokka. “I didn’t do anything! I never do anything! I’m just always a catterfish caught by the tide; there to be used and manipulated. A fucking Pai-Sho tile.” 

Weeks of healing sessions were paying off in the worst ways. In that, he knew that he had never really made a choice of his own in life and had been dealt one misfortune after another, yet he couldn’t stop it. He knew that he was only ever a tool to anyone. To the Dai Li as a prisoner, and to Katara and Sokka as a Firebending master. Definitely to his father as an heir, and even to his Uncle although at least Iroh tried to hide it. 

How pleased the Dai Li had been to keep him prisoner. How much they took from him. The horror of watching himself go through hell. The shame of having it displayed for someone else. The bitter taste of finally understanding why his skin itched and crawled at the briefest touch. Memories that his mind had decided against keeping for good reason. 

“For the last time Asshole. What the hell did you do to my sister?!” 

“I showed her something.” But he didn’t, really. It wasn’t even his to show. She had showed him his own memories. 

“What?” 

He hummed, thinking. How to put it? What had they learned? 

“What it’s like to be me.” He said with a sick grin. Because that’s all that had really happened. The girl thought she’d like a little peek in his head and saw too much. She looked at his life and turned away in tears. As though his memories were no more than tragedy preformed on stage to sway an audience. 

And the worst part was that he wasn’t just angry at the girl who would ‘help’ him one hour a day and be unable to face him without tearing up in the meantime. More than angry, he was jealous. That she could steal a glance at his life at then walk away to cry to herself. Zuko couldn’t walk away from this. It was him. 

And he didn’t know how to cry yet. 

xiv. 

A courtyard of cobbled stones and dappled sunlight. A boy stood in the center dressed in red. He must have been younger than Aang. A tall figure in long robes stood with his back to them, observing the boy. 

The boy began to fire bend. Was this the Fire Nation? 

She saw the boy’s face as he spun into motion. He looked oddly familiar. 

It took Katara a long second to realize that she wasn’t just looking at a boy who looked kind of like Zuko. She was looking at Zuko, before he’d gotten the scar. 

But why were they seeing this? So far, all the memories they’d restored had been traumatic. Painful, almost impossible to watch. Gruesome and violent, or just bone aching feelings of regret and loneliness. It was hard work for Katara, healing Zuko. It was by far the most difficult thing she’d attempted on her own. Because she could always count on Sokka by her side, or Aang, or Toph. But there was really no one who could help her this time. She was the only bender in her tribe, the only healer on this ship. And she’d sworn to Zuko that she would be the only other person to see his memories. 

And she’d faced some of the worst things she’d ever seen. She dealt with the cruel awakening of how incredibly lucky they had been as children in a war. Not everyone who travelled survived it. And she cried about it, went without sleep because of it. But she carried on. 

But this memory? This gilded palace courtyard and the sun through the trees? It was long before she’d even met Zuko. What could have happened in his privileged childhood that was worth forgetting? 

Practice went on. Zuko, young Zuko that is, stubbled slightly through forms, brows (because he still had both) furrowed in concentration. Katara could sense the consciousness of the Zuko she knew today skirting around the edges of the scene. His presence tasted like ash-dark snow and blood. This an improvement from when they’d begun this process. Two weeks ago, the only words she would’ve dared to use to describe it was death, or pain. Maybe suffering. Something incredibly dark and complex that couldn’t be equated to anything tangible. In comparison, blood was far preferable. 

Young-Zuko made an error. He fell. The man said something that was lost to the winds of remembering, but his voice had been harsh. Katara tried to focus the memory. One fact fell clear into her mind. The man was Zuko’s father. Fire Lord Ozai. And then she could hear him speak. 

“...you were lucky to born.” He leaned over the boy. His voice was cruel. It reminded her of the way Zuko sounded when he laughed or cursed her out. “You’ve always been a disappointment. Your mother should’ve let me get rid of you when you were born.” 

Zuko cowered. Both young and old. Katara understood why they had been brought here. It had been foolish of her to assume that the Fire Lord would be a kind father. Or that life had respectfully waited until Zuko was old enough to mess him up. 

It certainly hadn’t waited for Katara to be ready before it took her mother. 

The Fire Lord kicked his son who still crouched where he’d fallen. It wasn’t a light kick. Katara had been in enough fights to what kind of bruises that would leave. 

The memory receded with Zuko still laying on the stones, face pinched in pain. 

It wasn’t the worst she had seen. Tui and La, it was so far from the worst. She’d left healing sessions in tears, or about to vomit, or commit murder. But this was one of the most revealing memories. She felt she understood her patient better now. 

First, when he was a prince chasing the Avatar, she’d seen Zuko as this symbol of the enemy. He’d been a face to fight against. She had taken pleasure in concocting her own story of his easy life, how little he understood of the real world compared to everything she had been through. 

Then she’d seen him in Ba Sing Se. He fought beside her, saved her life. So she’d had to change her narrative. Now he became the spoiled prince who’d wanted to see the real world and had been terribly hurt by it. A victim of war crimes, but deep down still a bit deserving. And definitely useful to her cause. 

Each healing session, she learned something new. Like that Zuko had been banished before they met, or that he was the Blue Spirit. She forced these new facts to fit into her narrative, and it changed. But she never really let go of that idea that Zuko had lived an easy life in the palace before he took up Avatar hunting. 

The resigned look she’d seen on the child’s face told her otherwise. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoyed! you might be getting more updates soon because i've just learned that getting high makes writing fic go so much quicker for me, so i might actually update within the next month. 
> 
> some comment inspiration if you're unsure what to write:  
> 1) favorite thing that ive written so i can write more like it  
> 2) cancel me!  
> 3) predictions for the future of zuko and gaang  
> 4) music recs (for example, I really like david bowie because he had a mullet and I have a mullet)  
> 5) weed


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko is healing. Some more memories and definitely check tw in the chapter notes, but don't be fooled this is actually the most hopeful chapter I've written yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New tw: sexual assault, gross and violent memories. I've upped the tags to include graphic violence just in case, but it's not too bad.

Sometimes the other children on the ship tried to talk to him. They picked up more misfits as they travelled. A traveling band of outcasts and losers off to kill the Firelord! And so many of them were children! It seemed the practice of raising child soldiers belonged to every nation. 

Zuko couldn’t stand most of them. The new ones especially. The ones with dumbass made up names that he refused to learn. They gawked at him and asked the others “Is that really the Firelord’s kid? What happened to him?” like Zuko wasn’t even there. He frequently broke out into fits of laughter until they fucked off. At least he wasn’t approachable to someone. But tragically, some people weren’t completely thrown off by his insanity. 

Sokka, for one, seemed to enjoy annoying Zuko too much to fuck off easily. Zuko was too often interrupted during his naps now for ‘interrogations’ with the WaterTribe ‘warrior.’ These quickly turned out be Sokka asking stupid questions and Zuko doing his very best to get him to leave. 

“Tell me, Zuko. What was that weird ponytail you used to have about? I hope you know that you looked like an onion.” 

Zuko never gave a truthful answer. “What the fuck do you mean? That’s how everyone looks in the Fire Nation.” 

“Are the palace doors always locked?” 

“We don’t use doors in the Fire Nation.” 

“Where will they keep the weapons?” 

“We train rats to following our troops carrying the weapons.” 

“Who becomes Fire Lord if all of the royal family is gone.” 

“A Monkey-Spider elected by the people.” 

“Oh, but when my culture is democratic, we’re savages?” Zuko grinned. Sarcasm, a comedic tool which Zuko had come to know that Sokka criminally overused. 

Zuko almost enjoyed messing with Sokka. Zuko didn’t want to need anyone, but it was also fucking tiring being alone to his thoughts all the time. After weeks of healing sessions, he still didn’t have his mind back. He just had more memories, but not all. And endless time to dwell in his self loathing. 

The time he spent in ‘interrogation’ flipping the questions upon themselves was thoughtless and easy. Not heavy and sad like healing with Katara, who still treated him like he was breakable. Like she could break him more than he’d already been broken. When he was with Sokka he didn’t have to worry about being watched or worried about. 

He wished he hated it. He almost missed hating everything, like he had when he first got on this ship. It had been free. Now he could find things enjoyable. Now he had another thing he could mess up. 

And, weirdly, it seemed that Sokka enjoyed it to. At some point, Zuko’s snark went from producing glares and sighs to snorts and witty comebacks. He really didn’t know what to make of it, that Zuko could produce something other than fear or pity in other people. 

Zuko also didn’t mind the earthbender. Toph, that was her name. She cursed almost as much as he did and cared even less of what people thought of her. The time they spent together was largely her talking and Zuko laughing because that was most of what he knew how to do. He still laughed all the time. Toph would punch Sokka whenever she liked, but hadn’t even needed the threat of fire to refrain from doing this to Zuko. 

Not to mention that she was fucking brilliant bender too. A metal bender, and who knew that shit was possible? Toph was a prodigy that could match Azula, and probably will once they meet again. 

Probably the only reason that his sister hadn’t caught them yet was that she thought Aang was dead. Because, she had killed him. Father must be so proud. 

Zuko could just imagine Azula standing at the Firelord’s side, how much he was probably praising her violence right now. And Azula was just eating it up like fire flakes. He hoped that she fucking choked on them. 

She was clever with anyone else, yet Azula would always be blind to their father. The perfect princess, always so Agni-damned willing to please Ozai. And so fucking successful. Zuko had been so jealous. 

He had a new perspective now, though. And he could see father for what he really was. Encouraging violence and heartlessness in his children from day one, it was no wonder Azula and Zuko turned into the fucked-up monsters they were. It was like what the Dai Li had done but for years at a time. 

\- 

No one touched Zuko. That was a rule. He couldn’t stand it. Sometimes men on the ship tried to grab his elbow to direct him away from the edge and Zuko would have a flame in their face the next second. So, they reached this agreement, they don’t touch Zuko, and he doesn’t set them aflame. Easy. 

The last time he had touched someone was when Katara healed his mind. Before that, his weeks in Lake Laogai, he wasn’t sure. His memories from that period were very much nonlinear. He couldn’t place them in order. 

A summary would have to include gratuitous beatings and forced sparring sessions with dozens of Dai Li, days on end without food or water, and some memory to do with a locked room and a green light that even Katara couldn’t bring back. The worst memory (so far. there is still much missing) was the one that he blamed for his adversity to touch. The time a guard had attempted to sexually assault him. 

Past-Zuko killed the man before he got too far. Burnt him to death. 

The memory was choppy still. Just the feeling of gross hands on his bare skin, the panic, the terror, and the mangled melted remains of a grown man. An overwhelming stench of burnt flesh that he would never shake. 

The man had not died silently. He had screamed the whole time. And Zuko had not given him a fast and merciful death. But screams were the norm in Lake Laogai. It would have raised more alarm if no noise had left the cell. There probably wasn’t one single night that Zuko’s screams hadn’t painted the walls. 

No one but Zuko knew that the screams that night were not his, not until the morning. 

Zuko had taken the life with both hands behind his back, quite literally. The Dai Li liked to keep him bound at his wrists and ankles. Zuko had to use his breath. His lungs had been scorched after breathing enough fire to melt a man. His voice still hadn’t recovered. The body laid a heavy weight crushing Zuko for hours; Zuko was too weak to shove it off. 

Even miles away from that lake, any brush of his skin took him back to that horrible night trapped beneath a corpse. 

Katara always saw the memories more clearly than Zuko. She had her worst breakdown the day they had seen that memory. Weak. Zuko had lived that. He still lived that, every time he held himself back from lighting the next person who touched him on fire. 

In some ways, the memory hadn’t been a surprise to him. It was one of the memories that just fit right into place once he had them again. Like he had always been sort of remembering it when his skin itched and only just now realized that. 

The real impact of regaining that memory was watching human flesh bubble and char beyond repair and realize that that had happened to him. Someone had done the same thing to his own face, even if he could not remember. 

\- 

Zuko remembered nice things sometimes. Well not nice, not really. But things that weren’t traumatic. Things his mind hadn’t hidden to protect, just on accident. 

He had learn to use swords under a man named Piandao in the Fire Nation. He’d spent the summer after his mother left away from home, training with the swordsmaster. It might have been the most peaceful summer of his life. He knew it was the first time he’d been taught something without threat of violence. 

His father had called his use of steel shameful for one who would one day be the greatest firebender in the land. Zuko had agreed back then. He used to agree with whatever his father told him. Now, well now he just missed his swords. 

Another memory that hadn’t hurt to regain was the date he went on with Jin. Katara had found it hilarious. She apologized later for laughing, but Zuko couldn’t blame her. It probably was funny for someone with a normal sense of humor. For him it was just unreal. 

The version of himself that he watched light lanterns in Ba Sing Se was entirely foreign. He seemed so far from whatever Zuko was now. Had he been that content? Not that he had been young or innocent, some of his traumatic memories seemed to date way before Ba Sing Se. Just, it looked like he had been through plenty and dealt with it. 

Zuko used to know how to cope with things, in healthy ways. Maybe he could learn again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zuko can have a little sanity, as a treat. just a bit of healing, and maybe some healthy relationships that respect his boundaries, he's earned it. Writing an insane character was fun for a bit but it got tiring, hence we are in the next stage of his character arc.
> 
> In other news, for once I've actually written ahead and have the next two chapters completely written. So you guys should definitely subscribe or bookmark because updates are imminent!
> 
> Alright, hit me with your reactions in the comments. How does everyone feel about this angst with a slightly hopeful outlook? Do you miss when Zuko was completely insane, or, like me, do you just want him to be happy? Did you pick up on any foreshadowing?


	6. healing isn't linear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I think that things will get worse before they finally get worse."  
> Do you guys know the song Trailer Trash, by McCafferty?  
> Yeah, that's basically what the inside of Zuko's head sounds like.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> everything is going great until it's not.
> 
> Uhh, idk if I really need more warnings? But basically Zuko has breakdown and loses time :( poor guy is really going through it lmao.

Zuko had nightmares. Every night. He wondered if he screamed during them. He wondered of the others pretended not to hear. He was sure of it. 

How little had changed in that regard, from his time in Lake Laogai. Hundreds of miles away and he still relived the torture every day, still screams were his normal every night. 

The nightmares were worse than the memories because the nightmares felt like memories. Every time he slept, he saw the most horrible things, creative and cruel tortures only possible under dream logic. And they felt just like a memory, down to the fact that he wasn’t watching alone. Katara was there in the dreams, staring deep into the crevices of his mind. 

In the dreams she gave up on him. The memory was finally too much. She would cry, or shout, or maybe laugh and tell him how he was beyond help. Broken forever. Not worth it. 

And then it would be Iroh saying that to him. And then mother, even Sokka and Toph would be there. The nameless warriors that had pulled him back from the rails told him to jump in the dreams. Jin and Jet, the boy he’d saved from Earth Army recruiters. They all told him to give up, that it wasn’t possible to move on from what had happened to him. 

For hours after waking up each time, Zuko still couldn’t tell if what he had seen was real. 

\- 

Zuko started sketching. Charcoal wasn’t hard to come by on a ship like this, and he’d found sheets of parchment in a forgotten storage closet. 

He was not unskilled as an artist, he learned. Not that he could remember when he was taught, but some skills seem to have endured. 

He drew what he remembered. The closet in which he worked for privacy held ocean scenes from his time on the Wani, and Earth landscapes he’d seen as a refugee. The ones he had drawn his cell in Lake Laogai upon were immediately turned to ashes dusting the floor. He very rarely remembered his childhood enough to sketch it. 

Those were his most valuable ones. If he remembered a palace scene, maybe Azula from Before, he would draw it countless times until he got it right. If she ever saw, Azula would tease him mercilessly for it. Maybe one day Zuko could actually show her. 

No one on the ship was allowed to see what he drew, but Zuko knew that they were not unaware of where he snuck off to. Whatever. He was grateful for any amount of privacy he’d earned. 

\- 

He let Toph sit with him when he drew. It was okay, she was blind. And, she hadn’t done a thing when he burnt everything. She gave him the nickname Sparky. She never asked questions. Never asked him to do anything except tolerate her company. It helped. 

It felt almost like those rare moments in which he and Azula got along. It made him think that maybe he could have them again. 

Fuck. He was getting sentimental. Maybe his healing sessions were working a little too well. He burned another stack of drawings until he felt like flames and nothing again, not that pain that he didn’t understand. 

\- 

They let him firebend now. He was deemed ‘stable enough.’ by Katara. He didn’t know what that meant, but it had carried a lot of weight with the crew. Everyone seemed to listen to Katara in regard to Zuko. They trusted that she had done some test to verify that he wouldn’t set everyone on fire if he was allowed to bend. She hadn’t. 

It was really simple what had happened, actually. Zuko had just told her, “How the fuck am I supposed to become a firebending teacher if I’m not even allowed to practice my firebending. You’re all fucking stupid.” 

And she’d looked surprised at him, “You’re not allowed to firebend? At all?” And then sympathetic, “I would hate if I wasn’t allowed to waterbend. I’ll see what I can do.” And then Zuko had been told that he could bend as long as he was careful. 

When he was bending, his mind finally cleared. The memories faded away, everything from Lake Laogai, all the times he had been hurt beyond repair. It was just him and the fire. No anger, no rage, no sadness, and no pain. Just Zuko, and whatever little spark was still alive within him. The pieces of him that had endured as he clung to life, coming out in flames. 

It was cathartic. He was bending better than he ever had before. His movements were sharper, flames hotter, mind more focused. When the crew watched they whispered how fortunate that Zuko was on their side now. They finally understood why the risk had been taken to make him the Avatar’s teacher. 

\- 

Maybe he would be an artist once the war ended. It would be better than anything else. He would rather die than be Fire Lord. He would rather die than do a lot of things, but he really didn’t want to run a country. He didn’t really want to work at Uncle’s dumb tea shop forever either. Even if he had been happy there, Uncle was gone. 

Probably dead soon. He was a traitor, that’s what happens to them. Would Uncle still be proud of Zuko? He’d betrayed his nation. He didn’t care. He was helping the Avatar. He didn’t care. 

Uncle would be happy with what Zuko was doing, but he would wish that Zuko had chosen this because he wanted it too. Zuko thought, sometimes when he was laughing with Sokka or Toph, that maybe he could want it. 

\- 

“I don’t understand why we saw that memory. That was after any brainwashing; it couldn’t have needed to be restored.” Katara. 

“That- That really happened?” He couldn’t stop staring at his hands. He wasn’t laughing. He wasn’t even smiling. 

“You don’t remember? But-” 

“I killed my sister?” The memories were coming back more now, as they always did after a session. More than having watched it, Zuko slowly remembered sending the bolt of lightning back at his sister. His little sister. He looked up at Katara and his were wet. “I killed my sister.” 

“You didn’t know.” Pity. She rarely said anything to him without pity lacing her tone, but it was exceptionally strong right now. 

“You didn’t tell me!” 

“You were there, I shouldn’t have to tell you!” 

“I didn’t remember! I don’t even remember what I ate for breakfast, or what my mother's face looked like. You’re my healer, you should fucking know this!” he was deflecting, projecting anger onto her. Trying to buy precious seconds before the tidal waves of guilt and loss crashed onto him. 

“I’m sorry, okay?!” He’d riled her up for a second, he took pleasure and distraction in the anger until it caved into pity again. “So, so spirits damned sorry that any of this ever happened to you.” Her voice broke. 

He sneered. “Thank you, that means a whole fucking lot.” He wanted her to be angry. He deserved it. He’d killed his sister. “You’re a shit healer. No wonder I can’t remember shit.” 

It wasn’t working. She just looked sad, and guilty. Like she agreed with him. No one ever agreed with Zuko. Azula would have lit him on fire if he’d said that to her. 

Azula. Fuck. 

He had killed his sister. He could remember it now. She had shouted when the lightning hit her. He’d heard her skull crack against the floor. The fractals scarred into his skin made sense now too. He’d held lightning and it had left a mark. 

She was just fourteen. She had killed people; Zuko hadn’t. It was another reason their father had favored her. But now Zuko had killed his own sister and the weight of being a monster was finally hitting him. 

Katara was saying something again. She wore pity and judgment across her face and Zuko couldn’t bare it. He couldn’t hear what she said. Was he breathing? He didn’t want to be. Then she tried to hug him and Zuko forgot where he was. Skin on skin, Azula falling, skin bubbling melting, arms wrapping around Zuko, the smell of death, weeks in a cell, his little sister. 

He couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe, shoved her away and- 

\- 

His arms hurt. Burned. Again. He felt empty, tired, but his head throbbed, and mind buzzed and he couldn’t think. Azula- 

His arm burned. 

\- 

Where is he? 

“You’re in the cargo hold, Prince Zuko.” Not a prince. Not anymore. Cargo hold of what ship? 

Someone was talking to him. “..,Water Tribe. Prince Zuko, look at me? Can you hear me? Zuko...” Yes. 

“Yes.” That was his voice. Rough, and a thousand miles away. 

“...Hakoda. It’s been 12 hours.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fuck yeah cliffhanger! and the long awaited Dadkoda next chapter !!! please tell me in the comments you're reactions to this chapter because I'm pretty proud of it.
> 
> Also, let me know what songs this story reminds you of I am so interested.
> 
> Next chapter is almost finished and will be up next week hopefully :)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *throws another chapter of angst at you but this time with Hakoda's perspective* i know my audience

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: self harm, dissociation, yeah

No one had seen Zuko since he’d stormed out on Katara after their healing session. She wouldn’t tell them what had happened, but they must have had a fight. Katara hadn’t looked hurt, thank Tui, but she had seemed sad. As she always was, of late. 

Hakoda understood the Sadness, he carried it too inside of himself. He knew how it built up over time. First his father lost to sickness, then Kya to the fire nation. Years at sea watching the way the world hurt. Looking at people and seeing the Sadness reflecting in their eyes too, wondering how anyone could ever forgive the world. 

Hakoda knew that his daughter had endured, and that Sadness had built in her through it. That she was now struggling over forgiving life for what it dealt. 

Sokka blamed the prince for her moods, and Hakoda didn’t think he was entirely wrong. Because the prince was sad too, more so than Katara even though he didn’t show it. It was concealed behind the manic smile and disregard for his own life. But the Prince was also one of those people that had been deeply wronged by the universe. He had been dealt some of the worst cards that life had in its deck. For Katara to witness all of those memories... Well, Hakoda understood why she was sad. 

Hakoda found Zuko in the cargo hold of the ship. They’d already checked there twice, but when sunrise came and went without the prince appearing, he thought it might be worth looking once more. He’d been right. 

The boy was hidden in the very back, sheltered in the space between a crate and the back wall. He did not look good. Pale, hair greasy and limp, dark bags under each eye that stared into nothing. His arms were clutched closely to his chest. 

“Prince Zuko.” There was no response. Not the slightest twitch. “Prince Zuko.” He didn’t even blink. It was clear that the Prince wasn’t really there. 

Hakoda had seen this before. He surrounded himself with warriors, he knew what violence could do to a person’s mind. Sometimes, warriors that were the bravest in battle would go weeks without sleeping. He’d seen them let themselves wither away in guilt over men they’d killed, or stare into a fire but be looking at something else. A different flame, miles away and years ago at a firefight they had almost not walked away from. Hakoda wasn’t surprised to see these same symptoms in Zuko. 

He was never the best at this, but he knew he ought to try to bring Zuko into the present. He really didn’t think he wanted to know what horror the boy’s mind was stuck on. Calling his name hadn’t worked, but Hakoda didn’t want to touch Zuko. He knew that wouldn’t be welcome. 

Instead, he just kept speaking. He talked about how long they had looked for Zuko, how well hidden this spot was, et cetera. He just kept speaking words to fill the space and give something to guide the Prince back to himself, hopefully. He doubted that the boy understood a single word said, but once he started to blink regularly and unclench his arms, Hakoda thought it might have worked. 

“Are you with me?” He’d asked. 

“Where am I?” The voice was rough and very, very quiet. 

“You’re in the cargo hold, Prince Zuko.” 

A long couple seconds, and then softly, “Not a prince.” The gold eyes were looking at him, but something told Hakoda that they still weren’t actually seeing him. Breathing picked up. “Cargo hold of what ship?” His lips hardly moved. 

“Remember, Zuko,” he said, which maybe wasn’t the most helpful thing for an amnesia patient. “You’re working with the Southern Water Tribe. Prince Zuko, look at me? Can you hear me? Zuko, tell me if you can hear me.” 

“Yes.” Rough from disuse. 

“Do you know who I am? We were looking for you, do you know what time it is?” No response. “I’m Chief Hakoda. It’s been 12 hours.” 

The boy looked at him, and actually saw him this time. “12 hours?” 

“We couldn’t find you. Everyone thought that you had jumped ship.” Zuko just looked at him. Hakoda couldn’t tell how much was making it through the haze. “Can you tell me where you were?” 

“No.” The boy thought for a moment, taking a long pause. He seemed to come back into his body more, shifting from the position he had held for who knows how long. “I- I don’t know.” 

Zuko finally released his arms from where they had been clutched to his chest. The pale skin of his forearms was covered in molted red burns about the size of coins. Or thumbprints. Zuko didn’t see them. 

Hakoda looked back up at the prince. “What do you remember?” What had happened that Katara wouldn’t tell him? 

“I was with Katara, healing- and I remembered something.” Zuko’s eyes shined with tears but he didn’t bother raising either injured arm to wipe them. 

“What?” What memory could have been bad enough to trigger this breakdown? 

“I killed my sister.” Tears fell. “She’s dead. Fucking dead. That should be me.” There was a flash of flame, and a thumb pressed a fresh burn into his forearm. Zuko didn’t seem to notice, not even reacting to the pain. 

“Stop!” Hakoda grabbed Zuko’s wrist, pulling him back from hurting himself. A second later he was shoved back with a great deal of force. He had to pat out small flames on his uniform. He’d broken the number 1 rule: Don’t Touch Zuko. But he couldn’t just let the boy hurt himself, even if he was crying instead of laughing for the first time. 

Fuck. This kid was Sokka’s age. Hakoda didn’t know how to deal with this. “Zuko, you’re scaring me. Let me see your arms.” Zuko had pulled them back tight against him after shoving Hakoda away. 

“My arms?” He was void of emotion save the tear tracks down the unmarred side of his face. 

“Yes.” Hakoda couldn’t fix this; he would need to get Katara. But he couldn’t leave Zuko alone. “You’ve hurt yourself.” 

“I didn’t know. I’m sorry.” His arms were still held tight. 

“It’s okay.” It wasn’t. Hakoda hated this. He’d gotten used to the angry teen that cursed at laughed at everyone. He knew how to deal with the insane prince. He hated this broken boy that barely spoke above a wretched whisper. This child that he’d watch set his own skin alight. “You’re going to be okay,” Hakoda told him. But who was he to promise that? 

“It’s not. I’m not. Can’t you see how far everything is from okay?” 

“I can. Now let me see your arms, they must hurt.” 

Zuko shook his head slowly, methodically. “I can’t feel a thing. Are you sure I did this?” He looked at his arms and finally seemed to see the burns. “I don’t remember it.” 

“A fire bender made those marks. You are the only fire bender on this ship. Let me help you.” He had a waterskin to clean the wounds, if Zuko would just let him. 

“I would remember it if I had though, wouldn’t I? I should remember it.” The prince wasn’t even looking at him anymore. His eyes had locked onto the burns on his skin. He sneered at the mottled skin. 

“Let me help you.” Hakoda couldn’t help him. What had happened to the prince, it wasn’t something you could ever completely come back from. He was so young, and so lost. Hakoda didn’t know how to begin to help. He didn’t know if it was even worth it. All this, for the banished prince of the Fire Nation. All this, for someone to teach the Avatar firebending. Zuko didn’t look fit to teach anything. 

“I didn’t even remember killing Azula.” Lost, bitter. 

“Please, let me see your arm.” One thing at a time. Hakoda could clean burns, he had plenty of practice. 

“No, leave it.” 

“You’re injured. Katara will heal those burns.” 

“I said leave it!” Zuko jumped to his feet, suddenly showing an energy that wasn’t there before, and wasn’t there after either. He glared down at Hakoda, gold eyes very sharp for a second before they rolled back into his head. Then he was falling forward, fainting right on top of the Chief. 

\- 

Katara wasn’t good enough of a healer. She'd only spent a few weeks studying under Yugoda in the North and had always prioritized her combat training. Most healers spent years as apprentices until they were masters. And the mind was the most complex, delicate part of the body. She’d only brushed on it in her studies. She’d been making it up as she went along. 

He’d been remembering more. She had to be doing something right. Right? He’d been doing better. He was firebending, he was good at it. Good enough to give people hope. He could speak to Sokka without starting a fight. He’d stopped staring longingly at the side of the ship like he was waiting for the right moment to throw himself overboard. He was better. 

Until he wasn’t. Until he’d been missing for 12 hours and reappeared with a dozen self-inflicted burns. She’d put aside healing his mind to smooth over the skin of his arms. At least she knew how to heal a burn without leaving a scar. Probably the only thing she got right while healing him. 

She tried to use her bending on his mind to no result. Nothing. Like he wasn’t even there. 

Zuko stayed in bed for a week. He wasn’t lucid. Katara was there all through it, working herself to bone healing his mind. Between the prince and the Avatar, she barely had a moment of rest between healing sessions. 

But still, they weren’t there. Aang stayed unconscious no matter what she did. And Zuko, his mind was empty. She saw nothing, felt no presence. No consciousness. Just the vague sense of being locked out. Something was keeping her out. Maybe it was Zuko, maybe not. 

Sometimes, Zuko was awake. He would eat and seem to hear her when she spoke, but he never said anything. Other times he just sat there, with his eyes closed, but he wasn’t sleeping. Katara did not know how to help him. She could keep his physical body healthy, but that was always the easy part of healing. She’d reached the end of her knowledge of healing the mind. 

The worst part was that they needed Zuko. Katara cared about Zuko, of course. There was no way for her to spend so much time toiling over his health and not learn to care that he was okay. But above all that, she remembered why he was there in the first place. 

Aang would wake up soon. She’d held on to hope through it all, but now she was certain. And he needed a firebending master. Zuko was ridiculously good at firebending. He was a headache to have as an enemy, and potentially a fantastic ally. As long as he was in his right mind, or maybe any mind at all. 

If Zuko never got better, he could never teach Aang, and Aang wouldn’t be a fully realized Avatar. Aang was a master airbender, a skilled waterbender, and a strong earthbender. But would it be enough? 

\- 

They thought that Zuko had really, truly lost his mind this time. He supposed he probably had. Almost literally, ‘lost his mind.’ 

As in, his mind wondered. It would walk away, leave his body behind. He could see himself from the outside, see the ship and the people on it. He would go farther each time, furthering his consciousness from himself. 

It was freeing. He didn’t want to be Traitor Prince Zuko anymore. But he didn’t really want to die, not when he could finally see another way out. 

He would float up above, looking out at sunlight reflecting on the ocean, and time would melt away. The Sun would dip lower and lower and he would only come back to himself once the moon had taken its place. 

Sometimes he wasn’t alone. He didn’t think much of it. He was at peace up there, free from pain of remembering and the ache of forgetting. He just was. Noting could ruin that, not even whatever presence would sometimes float beside him. 

Who or whatever it was felt familiar to Zuko. He didn’t want to dwell on it, but he fathomed that there was a reason Zuko could sense them. Something with destiny, or fate, or maybe something from the past. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dadkoda chapter 1/? has been posted ! please give me your reactions below. I was going to put more Hakoda and Zuko interactions, but then I decided to rewrite everything that I had planned and make it even more angsty, so I hope that this will be enough for now. 
> 
> Coming up: things get better, and then so much worse! 😀

**Author's Note:**

> my tumblr is hohboi06 go say hi


End file.
